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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30143937">Gimme the booze and get me all loose</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narmie/pseuds/Narmie'>Narmie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:00:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30143937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narmie/pseuds/Narmie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Armie moves in to his new apartment, he wants some peace and quiet, but his neighbors happen to be the opposite of it. But maybe they are not the worst?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello there! First, I hope you will like it. Second, my dearest thank yous (billions and billions of them) to 6 - yes we know her well right - for helping me with this and shaping it to the current form - so it could be really good! Honestly, the amount of work she did is just outstanding! THANK YOU!<br/>Third, this is written, I mean the fic is finished for I think months now and was just laying there, catching dust and I've decided to finally post it. How well I will be with updates, we shall see.<br/>Lots of love, take care, and don't forget to perhaps write me a comment.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He wasn’t angry. He was just … okay, he was angry. Fucking pissed in fact. It was his first night in the new apartment and he just wanted to sleep. Nothing unusual, nothing out of ordinary, not a fucked-up concept since it was the middle of the night, hence the time people usually slept. As he wished to. Especially after a terrible week at work, lack of sleep and moving.  If only his neighbours could share his opinion on that matter and not drunkenly scream some music lyrics, knock over furniture, laugh hysterically. That would be great. Awesome even.</p><p> </p><p>He sighed, shifting to lay on his back. It was 3 in the morning with no sign of this party winding down. He didn’t really have problems with people having parties in their houses. It was cheap, convenient. He got that, he really did. But for fucks sake, screaming ‘<em> hit me, baby, one more time </em> ’ at the top of their lungs or waking everyone in a 5 km radius shrieking ‘ <em> wake me up before you go-go </em>’ was fraying the edges of human decency</p><p>They hit his last nerve around 3.30. And he wasn’t a guy that would let go easily. He stood up, blinking a few times to adjust his eyes to the lights, pulling on some pyjama pants that laid on the floor next to the bed and some old shirt that has seen better days. Tiredness seeped through his flesh to the bone and he was even more irritated that they were so loud he couldn’t even fall asleep.</p><p> </p><p>He licked his lips, deciding to just go there and have it over than suffer any second more. He opened the door to his apartment, the cold hitting him square in the chest. He shivered as  he walked next door and rang the bell. He wasn’t surprised when  no one answered immediately. He rang again; same result. When he rang for the third time and nothing happened, he was ready to just say ‘<em> fuck it </em>’ and call the police to inform them about the disturbance. He really didn’t fucking care at this point. But then, the door opened and a guy with mop of brown curls looked up at him,  confused.</p><p>“Yes?” he inquired cautiously as if there wasn't a tribute to coachella going on behind him and Armie couldn’t really get why people were so thick sometimes. Or most of the time. Whatever.</p><p>“Listen, I need to sleep, so either you guys turn down the music and start acting like it’s past 3 fucking am, or I’m just gonna call the caps”</p><p>“Ummm sure man, I guess”</p><p>Armie rolled his eyes, the guy was obviously drunk and most probably didn’t understand a thing of what he was hearing. His luck today honestly.</p><p>“I do hope so. Night”</p><p>He came back to the warmth of his own place, sighing in relief. It was really cold in the corridor. He shook his clothes and crawled into bed, covering himself with a comforter, praying for that curly idiot to keep his word. </p><p>Surprisingly for him, they did. The music was playing very low and they stopped making hubbub with their laugh and loud chattering. Finally, Armie swiftly and easily sank into sleep. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>3 months later</b>
</p><p> </p><p>He was settling nicely. Perhaps the apartment wasn’t vast, but it was spacious enough to not make him feel claustrophobic and the bathroom was big enough for him to be able to fit under the shower. It was rather nice to finally have a place for himself. Going back to the empty house was somehow refreshing. No one bothering him about where he was going or pestering when he would get back. Or even just simply asking about his day just to uphold a conversation. It wasn’t anything bad, it was just … he really sometimes wasn’t in the mood to exchange pleasantries and just wanted to be left alone which was hard to achieve with roommates; especially when those roommates had some special guests. </p><p>Perhaps in time, he would get himself a puppy. Or a cat since it would be more suitable for living in an apartment and his working hours. But right now he was content with how things were. Even his neighbours were calm. He had hardly even seen them on the staircase, while going out to get groceries, taking out the trash or going to work. He couldn’t even really hear them doing anything, besides one time when he heard a piano playing softly, some tune  he didn’t recognize. It seemed he just had bad luck moving in exactly at the same time they had a party. He was played by the universe. Happens.</p><p> </p><p>He thanked God for Friday’s short working hours as he entered his apartment, shook his backpack to the ground and toed off his shoes. He downed a glass of water, feeling the sweat rolling down his spine, his whole body heated and flushed all because of scorching heat pouring from the sky. Tearing off his shirt that clung to his skin in that awful way,  he rubbed it under his armpits and over his torso, removing any excess of sweat, before tossing the shirt to the laundry pile, making a mental note to get the laundry done tomorrow. Getting his jeans off of his legs was a challenge, and he almost tripped over his own feet, supporting himself against the wardrobe, swearing under his breath when it got stuck with his socks and he had to sit down to take them off completely. When they were finally off, he was panting a bit, feeling the sweat rolling down his back.  After a second he decided his need for a cold shower was greater than his loudly rumbling stomach. </p><p> </p><p>The bell rang, surprising him in mid-stir of the veggie sauce. He wiped his hands, throwing a rag on the counter next to the opened beer bottle, not even bothering to turn the heat off and making his way to the door. </p><p>There was a guy with a familiar mop of brown curls at the other side, but Armie wasn’t really sure  His eyes wide as he took in  Armie’s naked chest. Armie cringed as he crossed his arms, not  in the habit of opening his front doors shirtless.</p><p>“Yeah?” he inquired, feigning nonchalance, wanting to get this done without having to go back to put something on first. The man shook his head, his brown curls bouncing around his face, before his eyes focused on Armie again</p><p>“I’m the guy next door. I mean your neighbour” he said, Armie blinked at him nodding slightly, prodding him to go on “Ummmmmm … I just wanted to say we will have a party tomorrow, so that … you will just know. Know about it”<br/>
“Thanks, I guess?”</p><p>“So … you are like fine with it?”</p><p>“You mean I won’t come banging at your door again at 3.30 am? Well, that depends” he answered with a small mischievous smile, enjoying how the guy was squirming under his scrutiny. </p><p>“On what?”</p><p>“If I’m invited and can drink all the booze you gathered for this small party” </p><p>It was funny to see the man blushing, biting his lower lip and not knowing what to say in response. Armie hoped his tone was light enough to show he was teasing, he assumed he earned that after the disastrous party all these months ago. </p><p>“Yeah sure, you should totally come” he blurted out finally, making Armie chuckle, both of them knowing full well that Armie had no real intention of doing any such thing. He was just playing with him, being this one awkward neighbour with lame and hoary jokes. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Armie had a pleasant Saturday. He did his workout then the laundry and some usual apartment cleaning. Just so he wouldn’t feel awful about not doing anything. After lunch, he shut down blinds in his bedroom to block at least the part of pouring sun and took advantage of the warm sunlight that still got through the soft material of them to curl for a nap, all warm and full of food, aware that a proper sleep tonight might be just futile.  </p><p>He woke up sticky with sweat a rumpled mess of light sheets pooled around his legs. He groaned, turning on his back and breathing heavily as if he got back from a run and not a nap. His lips were dry and he really ached for a glass — or several — of chilled water, but he wasn’t really ready to get up yet. He rubbed the palm of his hand over his face, trying to bring life to his body, cracking his neck and groaning. He was also a bit hungry. Yet, the tiredness soaking his body won over any other need and he stayed in bed, turning from side to side to block the sun from his eyes.</p><p>The rest of his day was spent in a similar manner, not doing anything excessively hard and still getting tired and sweaty. He couldn’t wait for the evening to come, all the sun pouring in from the windows making him drowsy and irritated. But on the other hand, he knew a peaceful and quiet evening, spent perhaps on his balcony, wasn’t waiting for him. He really had a draining week, with a lot of things pilling on themselves and he really looked forward to Saturday and Sunday to rest. Trust a bunch of neighbours to destroy his sweet, little dreams. </p><p>Around 7 pm he went for a run, deciding the sun and temperature outside wouldn’t kill him, thinking maybe he would drain himself enough and despite the party, would be able to sleep through the night. </p><p>A shower and tasty dinner later, he was spread on his couch mindlessly  watching some cooking show, letting his sore muscles relax. It was a good feeling, the one when you push yourself a little bit too far and you can be proud, endorphins pumping in your veins. </p><p>He was flipping through channels when the first noises started to come from the adjacent apartment. It wasn’t anything major or too loud. And it was still pretty early. It didn’t stop him from sighing in resignation. All hope gone. After a lot of debating, he decided on watching some random movie on Netflix knowing he might quickly lose interest and just scroll through his phone instead. He settled on the couch, with beer and snacks at hand, turning up the volume to muffle other sounds. </p><p>Getting up with his bladder full and his muscles still a little bit sore was harder than he thought. He relieved himself in the bathroom quickly. It was around 11 pm and he could tell from all the yells, music and screams coming from next door that the party was in full swing. He sighed heavily, resigned to the sleepless night of tossing around the bed and trying to somehow mute all the noises. </p><p>He went out to the balcony, a package of cigarettes in hand and he was met with a group of very noisy people, talking loudly among themselves and smoking. The smell of weed intense. </p><p>He rested his arms on the balustrade, watching the tip burn and trying to block their unending chatter. </p><p>“You could come over” he heard, somehow knowing it was directed at him</p><p>“Huh?” Armie looked at the guy, seeing it wasn’t the same as from yesterday</p><p>“Here I mean. Tim said he invited you and most probably you will suffer from us being loud and obnoxious for hours, so you should come over”</p><p>“And who are you?”</p><p>“I’m Will,” he said, reaching his hand over the balustrade “One of your neighbours” he added, when they shook hands</p><p>“And why I should come”</p><p>“Oh well, other than stopping you from brooding and being grumpy, I just don’t want you to call the police on us. And we have a booze”</p><p>Armie chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief of Will’s transparency. He considered his option for a second. Or he would stay at his place, do nothing for 3 more hours and go to bed, trying to block all the noises to fall asleep. Which you know, another pretty boring Saturday evening and like if that wasn’t depressing. Or he would spend time with a bunch of folks he didn’t know, probably hadn’t seen like ever in his life which might end in a very serious disaster, considering how he got sometimes after alcohol. And without it too. But also — free booze.</p><p>“Well?” Will prompted him, getting impatient perhaps</p><p>“Fuck sake, open the door then” </p><p>Responded with a huge boyish grin on his face and veins bubbling with something aking of excitement. </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div><p> </p>
<p></p><div><p> </p>
<p></p></div></div><div>
<p></p><div>
<p></p></div></div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>First of all, I would like to thank you for such a warm response to the first chapter. And say sorry for being so very fckin late with the update. Life is just the usual circle of mess.  Second of all, my great great thanks go to 6 once again, for giving me amazing tips and comments on how to improve it. I swear she has some out of this world powers! Lastly, I hope you all will like this chapter and I swear I will do everything to give you an update sooner!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The two beers Armie’d drunk languidly during the movie was evidently not enough alcohol to survive this party. Looking around, he realized they were younger than him, which yeah ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>sucks</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ and tipsy which also wasn’t that great but at least something he could manage. The empty beer bottles were covering the table in the company of some chips and tortilla chips crumbs in the bowls. Armie was hoping for some good, real food if he was about to get trashed. He couldn’t quite catch the balcony guy - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Will</span>
  </em>
  <span> - and since he didn’t know anyone here, at least not yet, he went to the kitchen first to fix himself some drink. The kitchen was occupied which he registered with surprise, not that he was a socially awkward being, quite the opposite in fact. It still didn’t change the fact he knew no one here and he didn’t want to overstep. Another thing was his mom’s persistently bleating voice in the back of his mind that coming empty-handed was tactless and disrespectful. It wasn’t a conscious decision to head straight for the alcohol but perhaps he should make it a new tradition. Empty hands rebellion. Just to spite his mother. He hadn’t had time to back off quietly, pretending he never went there, before the guy turned, drink sloshing in his glass when he saw Armie standing there silently, creeping over him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus fuck”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry man,” Armie said, recognizing him. It was the one that informed him about the party yesterday. The curly guy. “Didn’t mean to spook you”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine, it’s fine” he placed one drink on the counter and instead of using a paper towel or kitchen cloth to clean his hands from the sugary liquid, he boldly licked his palm. Armie felt his eyes widen, mesmerised at how his tongue moved over the skin, swirled around his thumb. His urge to down something, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, intensified. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad you came,” the curly guy said, rubbing his hand over his shirt</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ummm yeah,“ his voice quivered, giving away that his thoughts had been elsewhere. He felt his cheeks heating up, he cleared his throat before adding “Guess your friend convinced me. Free booze and all that” there was a shuddering edge to his tone, perhaps because his thoughts were stuck on something else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad it happened. Here” he added, moving to the side, snatching the drink from the counter before he did so “Not gonna block your way to the only thing you came here for,” he said with a wink, getting out of the kitchen to the open space of the living room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not for the first time, well </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, seemed to be the motto of the evening. He poured a good amount of vodka before downing it immediately and fixing himself another one, entirely lost on what he got himself into. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After three or perhaps four (he lost track already) of his well-over measured conoctions his head was pleasantly buzzing and surprisingly to himself, he was having fun. The music was playing, not really the sort he was used to listening to, but at least it was catchy. People were scattered everywhere, some just chatting, others smoking on the balcony, others got cards to play, which Armie found weird but also endearing. He was happy they weren’t playing naked poker or anything of sorts. He didn’t want to participate. At least not now. He was also dreading they would start karaoke, as it happened the last time. And God knows how he hated that. Or at least sober-Armie did, drunk Armie, unfortunately, loved nothing more than to shimmy on the stage and maybe sing a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a glass in his palm, to at least have something occupying his hands, he mingled around, familiarizing himself with the apartment that was practically a mirror reflection of his. His alcohol-addled brain found it somehow disturbing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aren’t you suffocating the three of you in this apartment?!” he asked Will dropping to the sofa beside him and taking a gulp of his drink. Will snorted at the statement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Course we are. But it’s cheaper that way. And Alex is more or less absent from here lately so we manage”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alex?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The girl over there” he pointed at a pretty brunette leaning over the wall with a beer bottle in hand, animatedly chatting with another group of people “She was the one screaming loudly the last time. She thinks you hate her” he added with a wink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I certainly would if I was on the other side of the wall right now, trying to sleep”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I bet you would. Hand already on the phone. All ready to call the cops.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably yeah” Armie chuckled, feeling at ease talking with Will. “But I must admit if you’re not throwing a party, you’re all rather quiet”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will laughed openly, leaning his head backwards, sloshing a bit of his drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s because we mostly aren’t here. All the work and other stuff”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Other stuff?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He really did have pretty weird neighbours. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was dizzy and it was late. Or early. Depending on how you looked at it. There were fewer people now, some having left to go home, which surprised Armie as an option he really wasn’t interested in. At least not yet. He was having fun. Perhaps for the first time in a very long time. The party was slowly, but surely dwindling to the end, but they were still talking, still laughing, still drinking. To be fair, this was always the time he liked the most. When the loud, noisy crowd of people you didn’t care much about left, leaving you behind with just a few, hushing quietly between each other, having this quietness settled around combined with blissfulness of the alcohol flowing through their veins. It was good.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He twisted his neck to the side, his bones cracking. He got up, adjusting his legs to the standing position as they wobbled beneath him. Things weren’t as easy when you were drunk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be right back” he slurred a bit to the body next to his, which nodded absently in return not really caring. Armie decided on hitting the bathroom first because his bladder was slowly killing him and there was a huge possibility it was currently unoccupied. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After he relieved himself, and it was in fact a huge relief, he wandered past the living room to the balcony, deciding on getting some air to counter the effect of all the alcohol he poured inside himself during the evening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thought it would be deserted, but to his immense surprise, a guy was sitting on a square wooden box, surrounded by the unmistakable smell of weed. The same guy from the kitchen, earlier this evening. The guy that went to inform him about the party. The one Armie joked about coming here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You just gonna stand there?” he queried, his voice raspy but not unkind, “Imma pull some muscle if you will keep on creeping” he added, surrounded by the curtain of brown curls and a halo of smoke from the joint he held rather absently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Scoot over then” Armie responded, crouching down, seating himself next to him, somehow managing to not accidentally hit the guy with one of his long limbs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your legs are massive”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, I guess”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re welcome”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Armie didn’t quite know if the guy was like this or it was the mix of the alcohol and weed speaking. Or even if he should feel flattered or creeped out. He really wasn’t in the mood to process it all, so he went with being his usual, a bit snarky self. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So why exactly are you here brooding?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, the usual. Not knowing what you are doing. The life crisis that appears around the third shot of tequila. Getting dumped.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So this is your cheer-up after getting dumped party?” Armie asked, not entirely sure if he was supposed to comfort the guy or phrase some silly spiritual words like ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>you will find your way</span>
  </em>
  <span>’. Or some other bullshit like so. But the guy snorted, his curls bouncing around his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah,” he said, his voice crackling with amusement. “It just sounds better to say to the neighbour you previously pissed off at 3 am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was 3.30” Armie corrected, mockingly offended</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever you say big guy” he faced him, a smirk tugging his lips and Armie thought he really liked that. “You wanna?” he asked after several seconds of silence, offering Armie the joint</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure I should with all the vodka I drank tonight”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There is this saying, ummm …”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go hard or go home” Armie helpfully supplied. The guy looked at him, furrowing his eyebrows, mischievous glimpse flicking in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not that,” he said with a chuckle “But similar. You get the vibe though. So you wanna?” he offered, straightening his legs, letting his grey sweatpants pull down from where they were gathered around his waist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Armie considered it, looking at the guy's fingers holding the joint in obvious invitation. He took it. Watching the burning tip for a while before taking a drag. One couldn’t really hurt. Besides, he really was having fun sitting here, why spoil it before it even got started?!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So …  little man you here because?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Little man? I’m not little!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Armie looked at him amused, with one eyebrow raised, raking his eyes over him. The grey sweatpants hiding rather slender legs and an oversized black hoodie covering the slim torso and lanky arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re smaller than me” Armie pointed out, returning the joint, dragging his eyes away from the guy’s face, staring at the pitch-black night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yea, because you’re huuuuge duh!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You still were the first one to call me big guy”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We already know why. It’s rather obvious” Armie snorted, the guy shifted and extended his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Tim” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Nice to meet you Tim” Armie replied easily, finding the whole encounter more and more amusing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your neighbour”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, har-har, smartass. And there was no end to the laughter” Tim added with a mocking tone of seriousness. “I guess you just want me to call you big guy forever”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not the one hiding my name dude. But if that’s some kink of yours, by all means, I can cater to that” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Armie felt his throat going dry, his cheeks reddening unwittingly. It wasn’t the suggestion itself, but also the sultry tone which wrapped a part of itself around Tim’s words and the rest, fist-like, around Armie’s dick. He swallowed and cleared his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Armie”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim threw him a lascivious wink. </span>
</p>
<p><span>“Nice to meet you</span><b>,</b> <em><span>big guy</span></em><span>”</span></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Small note for this chapter, the amazing 'as if there wasn't a tribute to coachella going on behind him' is all 6!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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